The Island of Fog
The Park ancestral home was not just an estate—it was a legend.
Located somewhere beyond even classified sea charts, the island was cloaked in a natural veil of dense, unending fog. From afar, only a silhouette of jagged cliffs and forested peaks could be seen. It was a place shrouded in myth, a sanctuary of power and silence. Only a few individuals in the world even knew of its existence, and those who did either bowed in reverence or stayed far, far away.
This wasn't just any island.
This was the throne of titans.
Ian Park, now age four and a half, stood atop a granite balcony overlooking the sea. Behind him stood his biotech butler Goro and spy-maid Anna, both disguised as elite tutors. In front of him? His bloodline.
First was his **father**, the youngest of the trio—barely in his early 50s, yet with silver-streaked hair and sharp golden eyes that could see through lies. A man whose fist once dented a steel bunker out of boredom. It was whispered in elite mercenary circles that he once fought in a war simply because he was "curious how humans fought."
Then came **his grandfather**, aged 168, wrapped in a sleek black robe. His presence alone bent the air, like gravity had shifted. He stood still under a red-leafed tree, eyes closed, sipping tea. Yet every veteran on the island knew: if he opened both eyes, something—or someone—was about to disappear.
And then there was the **great-grandfather**—a legend from the ancient past, over **300 years old**, who had not spoken in decades. His skin had turned marble-like, chiseled and untouched by time. His body radiated an aura that made aircraft sensors glitch when passing overhead. It was said that in his prime, he once split a battleship apart with a single slap—not to kill, just to make a point.
They were gods who walked like men.
And they cared not for the world anymore.
Even To them, the rise of Yamazaki Clan? Child's play.
The Fist Gang? Mere ants.
They watched from their fogged paradise, not out of fear—but boredom.
Ian knelt in front of them, respectful.
"I want to introduce something to you all," he said. Behind him, several biotech humanoids stepped forward—militarized beings from his summon system, dressed in casual clothes but with an unmistakable killing aura.
The father looked up. "Summons?"
"Not ordinary. They're grown from biotech code. All combat veterans. Each carries war knowledge from hundreds of simulated battles and real-world tactics. They answer only to me."
The grandfather took a sip of tea. "A living army..."
"They are family," Ian said. "And tools. I will use them to maintain peace... and crush chaos."
The great-grandfather opened one eye.
Just for a second.
Every summon in the courtyard immediately dropped to one knee, driven by instinctual fear.
"That's enough," the old titan murmured.
No one outside the family knew of Ian's System.
Even among the Parks, only these three knew.
The Summon System was his final card—the core of his rise, the secret weapon that would help him dominate the Pre-Generation chaos.
And as his younger brother **Jinyoung Park** was born, Ian felt a strange calm. He was now 12 years older—enough to be his guide. His legacy would trickle down through Jinyoung... and someday Daniel's father.
They would all rise.
But Ian? He would ascend.
"Soon," Ian said, watching the sunrise. "The world will remember why the Park name causes storms."
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Author's Notes: hehe